“Yeah?” Meg’s face lit up. “I’ve been experimenting. Figured I’d just try things and see what works.”
“You should keep experimenting,” Margo said. “This place could use some new energy.”
“Really? You’d be okay with menu changes?”
“Experiment all you want.” Margo took another bite. “Just don’t mess with my grilled cheese.”
Stella laughed. “That should be on a t-shirt.”
“That should be on the menu,” Bea said.
“The pesto was one of our favorites,” Anna added. “I’m claiming partial credit for moral support.”
“You ate a ton of it. That’s not moral support, that’s taste testing.”
“Same thing.”
Margo watched her granddaughters bicker with the easy affection of siblings who had finally found their rhythm. The family was changing. Growing. Becoming something new.
“Speech!” Joey called out suddenly. “We need a speech!”
“From whom?” Tyler asked.
“From Margo, obviously. She’s the matriarch. Matriarchs give speeches.”
“That’s not actually a rule,” Bea pointed out.
“It should be a rule. I’m making it a rule.” Joey tapped his water glass with a fork. “Speech! Speech!”
Margo held up her hands. “No speeches from me tonight. I’ve said enough lately.” She looked down the table at Fiona, who had gone still. “But I think someone else might have something to say.”
The table quieted. Fiona’s face flushed.
“Oh, I don’t—” she started.
“Mum.” Stella touched her arm. “It’s okay.”
Fiona looked at her daughter, then around the table at the faces watching her. Margo saw her take a breath. Square her shoulders.
“Alright.” She stood, wine glass in hand, lookinguncertain but determined. “I’m not good at this. Speeches. Feelings. Any of it, really.” A small laugh that didn’t quite land. “It’s been truly lovely to meet all of you, but I fly home tomorrow, and I suppose there are things I need to say.”
The garden was very quiet.
“When I came here, I was ready for a fight. I was convinced you’d all—” She gestured vaguely. “Stolen my daughter. Turned her against me. I had a whole story in my head about what was happening and who was to blame.”
Bernie shifted in his seat. Joey stopped fidgeting with his napkin.
“I was wrong.” Fiona’s voice steadied. “You didn’t steal her. You saw her. You gave her room to figure out who she is and what she wants. That’s not theft. That’s—” She paused, searching for the word. “That’s family.”
Stella’s eyes were bright. Tyler’s hand found hers under the table.
“So I want you all to know—I’m signing the guardianship papers tomorrow. Before I fly out.” Fiona looked at Tyler. “Full custody transfer. Official. Legal. Real.”
A murmur went around the table. Meg’s hand flew to her mouth. Anna made a small sound.
“Stella’s staying,” Fiona continued. “Not because I gave up. Because I finally understand that this is where she’s supposed to be right now. With all of you.” Her voice caught. “With her father.”
For a moment, nobody moved.
